She Dances In the Shadows
by NixieStGeorge
Summary: Alternate timeline/ Reimagining introducing Jillian Winchester, Sam & Dean's half sister. Starts off in the middle of Season 1
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE

November, 1991

It was well after one AM when John Winchester's 1967 Impala sped up the driveway of Ellen & Bill Harvell's house. 12 Year old Dean was awoken when he heard the engine come up the block. He watched through the window of the guest room as Ellen and Bill ran out into the rain to meet him. Ellen took a blanket wrapped bundle from John's arms and carried it back into the house. He nudged 8 year old Sam awake, but the boy shooed him away, so Dean headed down to the top of the stairs to watch what was going on alone.

"What the hell, John!" Ellen cried as she peeled the wet blanket from the bundle she was carrying. It was a little girl, about four or five, a tiny thing wearing a pink little mermaid nightgown. It was covered in blood.

"I didn't know they had her in there, I swear. I scoped the place out for a week. Nothing to indicate that-" John was interrupted by a loud clap of thunder that made him jump.

"Did you even check if it was even safe to bring her here?" Ellen growled.

"She ain't a demon, silver, holy water, salt, nothing." John gently lifted the unconscious girl from Ellen's arms.

"Do you think she was supposed to be a sacrifice?" Bill asked.

"I don't know. I wasted every witch in the place, luckily I did a check of the house before I lit it up." He held out one of the child's arms; it was dotted with several deep red puncture wounds all in a line. "She was hooked up to IV's or something, almost a dozen of them." He lifted up her night gown to show a series of small black symbols tattooed on her lower back and a few on the nape of her neck.

"She's got these marks, on her wrists and ankles too. From the looks of it they're permanent."

"We knew this wasn't a bush league coven, but this?"Bill inspected the markings on the girls wrists a little closer. "This is beyond anything we could have imagined."

"There's more." John's voice got quiet. "She's my daughter."

"What?" Ellen and Bill spoke in unison.

"Did I just hear you right?" Bill asked.

"You did," John sighed. "About six years ago, I met this woman, Brenda, on a job. She owned a bookshop with a decent occult collection. About six month later I get a letter saying I'm gonna be a dad. She didn't really want anything, just thought I had a right to know. I was there for her birth, saw her maybe one or two times, but, felt she was safer with her mom than with me. Last month, was her 5th birthday. I called a few times, didn't hear anything. Thought I come down and check it out. The shop was ransacked and the house…well, with the condition it was left in and the amount of blood left on the walls, I could only assume they were dead. My investigation lead me to the coven."

"Well what are you gonna do with her now?" Ellen asked.

"Until I know what they were going to be using her for, I can't just let her go off to wherever. In the mean time, I guess I'm gonna have to give Bobby Singer a call, see if he can dig up any information. I'll get the boys we'll leave now, get a good head start."

"Like hell you are, it's late, the boys are asleep. The coven is dead, you'll be safe here until breakfast. Let me take this little one and get her cleaned up into some dry clothes. Jo has some stuff she has outgrown, I'll pack her a bag." Ellen took the girl and brought her upstairs.

_**The next morning,**_

Ellen Harvell made the best blueberry pancakes in the state. That wasn't opinion it was a damn fact, well at least in Dean's mind. The delicious and fluffy bits of delicious distracted him from the tons of questions he had about what he had seen last night. His dad would have been pissed to find him spying, so he stayed quiet.

John walked into the kitchen, although he was quiet, it was hard not to notice him whenever he was in the room.

Sam and Dean both ran to greet their father. "Hey boys," John said ruffling Sam's hair. "Listen, I have something to tell you, so meet me in the living room after your breakfast."

Dean was still savoring the last piece of bacon as he entered the living room. There was his father, on the couch sitting next to a little girl in a blue dress and silver sneakers. She had a matching bow in her hair and stared blankly at Dean.

"Dean, Sam, I want you to meet Jill." John stood up. "Jill is, um…Jill is," he struggled to find the words. "The hell with it…Jill is your sister."

"Sister?" Sam cried. "Mom died when I was a baby. How can she be our sister?"

"She has a different mom, stupid." Dean snapped.

"Hey!" John scolded, "but yes, Dean is right. She has…had a different mom. Her mom died too, so now we got to look out for her."

"She's a girl." Dean lamented.

"Very astute Dean." John scowled. "I want you to care for her, the same you would Sam. She's family and needs us. Now, pack up your gear, we're headed out."


	2. Chapter1

CHAPTER 1

October 2006

The drops of water that had formed on John Winchester's third glass of bourbon soaked through his notes dissolving the hours of research, but he didn't seem to care. He stared hypnotized by the dancing flame of the pink birthday candle as the cheap wax coated the hostess cupcake. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and the flame was snuffed out. He never touched the desert.

Sam watched from out of the corner of his eye, sitting on the motel bed half watching an old spaghetti western on the only channel the flea infested crap hole got. He wanted to ask him what he was doing, but decided against it. Sam and his brother, Dean, spent the better part of a year of searching for their father when he went missing. They had just reconciled after years of not speaking. Now wasn't the time to poke the drunken bear. Within a few minutes curiosity boredom had gotten the best of him, however.

Dean Winchester sat at the small table in the tiny motel kitchen diligently field stripping his sidearm. It was something he could do blindfolded, in his sleep, but all of his focus was lasered on this mundane task.

"So whatdya think is up with dad?" Sam whispered, taking a seat next to his brother.

"It's October 5th," Dean answered without looking up.

Sam looked at the clock, 12:15 AM. "It's been like what, three years?"

"Four," snapped Dean just as he clicked the magazine back into place. "What of it?"

"I thought you said he gave up. You said he stopped looking."

"That's not the same as giving up." Dean gazed over at his father, who was hunched over a stack of old photos. "I'm the one who said he should give it up. He needs to face the truth."

"The truth?" Sam scoffed.

"She's dead Sam, no other explanation."

"You have no way of knowing that. She just ran away, Dean. She wanted away from dad and she got away. She was always tough. I bet you she is just living her life…the way she wants to."

"No Sam, she wasn't like you. She wouldn't have just abandoned the family to become a lawyer." Dean's sharp words were delivered to Sam extra cold. "You didn't know her the way I did. She was a hunter, loved it…probably more than me. I knew she was dead within the first month. She didn't call or leave one of her little notes in her stash places. I checked them all Sam."

"But dad still believes she is alive?"Sam raised an eyebrow amused at something Dean disagreed with their father on.

" I tried to convince dad, but he still had us on the road for a year looking. Hell, he even asked me to call you. That's how desperate he was." His voice cracked. He took a swig of beer to drown the bit of pain that tried to get through.

The brothers lingered in the unpleasantness for a few agonizing moments before Sam turned to grab his coat.

"I'm gonna go grab some dinner." He said half out the door.

"It's past midnight!" Dean called back.

"Breakfast then!" Sam called back letting the door slam behind him.

John looked up from the desk, "what is his problem?"

Dean shrugged, "on his period or something."

John chuckled and went back to looking at the next photograph in the stack. Sam looked about seventeen or so, Dean didn't look too much different, save for looking like the poster boy for Abercrombie & Fitch 2002. In between them a girl of about fourteen with violet eyes that pierced through raven bangs. All of them looked absolutely miserable.

"I remember that day," Dean poked at the picture, "we were working that job where all those church ladies bit it." He laughed, "we got ourselves invited to the pastor's Thanksgiving and we had to pretend to be all Stepford family."

John chuckled, "that was probably the closest thing to a normal Thanksgiving we ever had."

"Yeah, until we found out the pastor was demon and we had to exorcise him in the middle of desert while grandma beat me over the head with her purse." Dean added.

"Believe it or not, that's not too far off from a normal Thanksgiving." John's smile faded. "I think this was the last picture of all you guys together."

"No way. What about the one we took in New Orleans a few months later? Remember that job with the voodoo queen and the gators." Dean flipped through the stack of discarded photos searching for the picture.

"I remember taking the picture, I just can't find it anywhere." John shuffled through the shoebox on the desk. "Is it sad that this is all the memories I have of you guys?"

"Well, it's not like we had albums of Kodak moments dad. I think Sam has some photos he keeps." Dean pulled out a small shoebox, decorated with magazine clippings and "SAM's STAY OUT" written in big black letters. He had had it since he was a kid.

"Do you really think we should be going through his stuff Dean?" John said in a fatherly tone.

"Years ago I was lookin for skin mags, and I thought he might have kept some in here, but when I looked it was just a bunch of family photos, post cards, movie ticket stubs and crap. Leave it to Sam."

Dean rifled through Sam's most personal items. Love notes from Jessica, a naughty Polaroid of Jessica, "jackpot!" He called out when he came across an envelope with family pictures.

"Not much some old photos of you and mom," he shuffled through the memories, singular moments of happiness captured in dark times. " Some stuff when we were little…look at that haircut!" He held up a picture of Sam with what was probably the worst bowl cut in history, he pocketed that one so he could ridicule Sam later. "Here's a postcard?"

Dean flipped the "Greetings from New York" postcard over.

_Dear Samalam,_

_New York is amazing. I love it here! You'd love the library at this place, it's HUGE! You and Jessica should come down when we get our next break, should be after the holidays._

_Love,_

_Jillybean_

Dean read it over a second and third time as his stomach crawled into his throat. It dropped when he read the postmark , October 1st 2005

"Dean, what is it?" John asked.

With the words stolen from his mouth, all Dean could do handed his father the postcard. Stiff with rage Dean only flinched when his father punched the desk.

"I am gonna give that boy such a beating..." John trailed through clenched teeth.

Dean took a deep breath, he would need to be the cooler head. Someone needed to be or Sam was in for a world of hurt. He swallowed his outrage for the sake of his father.

"Wait, Dad. There's gotta be an explanation for this." He went through the rest of the envelope hoping to find some evidence that would make this all make sense. Each photo just became more damning, however. A photo of Sam & Jill in front of a rather sad Christmas tree with _**"Sam & Jill X-Mas 2004",**_ photos of Jill & Jessica, Jill in a makeshift cap & gown standing next to Sam_**"Jill GED 2004". **_

John reached for the photos wanting to see what could possibly be so upsetting. Dean tried to keep them away, but his father was still stronger. He stood still as stone while John took his time to study each photograph, waiting for another chair, table or worse to be smashed into pieces. He felt like a child again, helpless in the wake of his father's rage. _Sam, if you know what's good for you, please don't walk through that door in the next few minutes._ He silently prayed.

John didn't utter a word, not an obscenity nor did he throw, hit or punch anything. He picked up his keys, and his coat and left. Dean was able to breathe once he heard the truck pull away.

The motel room was dark, but it was almost 3:00AM so there wasn't any reason to be alarmed. Sam still entered with caution. The room was empty. He pulled back the curtain on the window, the truck was gone. He hit the light and relaxed. It was nice to have some alone time for a bit, maybe he would be able to get some sleep.

He stashed the leftovers from the diner in the small refrigerator, it was pulled pork, but he labeled it salad, hoping it would deter Dean from stealing it.

"Late night?" Dean spoke from the shadows, causing Sam to jump. He was sitting at the table, the contents of the envelope in Sam's box sprawled out.

"So now you know," Sam shrugged, too tired to argue.

"So?" Dean stood up sharply, "So? Do you know how sick dad was looking for her? And you knew where she was. You could have brought her home, or at the very least called and said she was safe!"

"Dean, do you know what she looked like when she came to me? It looked like she just lost three rounds to a heavyweight champion and she was scared to death, saying dad went crazy, that he was gonna kill her! She begged me not to tell you guys where she was." The words he'd been wanting to say for years poured out of Sam.

"Bull shit, Sam. You never cared that much about her, you did that to get back at dad. Plus you knew dad could get a little rough now and then. She took licks from him before just fine. So you brainwash her into your little, 'not the life I wanted' bull crap. She was a hunter, she lived for the hunt. Don't tell me that's not true."

Sam smiled, for years he was always conflicted about not telling his family about Jill, not anymore. "Because you two were so close. She idolized you right? She was your shadow, mini-Dean killing machine." Sam cast a shadow of self-righteousness over Dean. "Did you know that she never wanted Dad to pull her out of school? All the trouble making, acting out stopped when she came here. She went to school was a normal kid for a year and a half, she got her GED and went to college. She had an afterschool job and sung at open mic night at the coffee house on Tuesdays. She didn't have to worry about her abilities because as a regular kid she never had to use them. I know you can't fathom this, but we had gotten out of this life and we were happy and I know I'm back in, but I'm glad she has a real shot at normal."

Dean struggled to keep his shaking, balled fist at his side, but he managed it. "You have no idea about her, do you? Of course not, because you wanted nothing to do with this family. She was never gonna be normal. She could never be normal!"

"Dean if-" Sam was interrupted by John's right fist. The shock sent him to the ground. Leather boot met ribs, back and stomach in swift hard blows, followed by a few more slaps and punches. Obscenities were shouted, some Sam was sure he never heard before, but in the pain and chaos his brain couldn't comprehend what was being said. Dean pulled his father off before John took it too far.

"Enough! Enough, Dad. Let's go walk it off." Dean lead John out of the Motel room, leaving Sam breathless and bleeding on the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Sunlight spilled out from under the heavy green curtains. A sore Sam Winchester rolled over hoping to ignore the morning, but the throbbing pain in his face demanded he pay it mind. He managed a good hour of morning purgatory in a bed that would never be as comfortable as it was when he first slipped under the sheets, until the knock at the door.

He looked over to the other twin bed, Dean was sprawled out, blankets and sheets twisted around him like vines locking him in a deep sleep. An RPG could have gone off in the room and it still wouldn't have woken him up. Sam slipped on the jeans from last night and opened the door.

John hadn't slept that night, but it looked like he hadn't slept in ten nights. His dark eyes looked up at Sam from the darker pits that formed around them. It was a lost look of a tired and defeated man, a look that made Sam cringe. It only lasted a moment, if that, before his face hardened again.

"We need to talk." He grumbled gesturing for Sam to step outside.

Sam wiped some of the dried blood from his lip fighting the urge to slam the door in John's face. "Let me grab my shirt," he muttered, closing the door over behind him.

November 1991

It was too early for lunch, but too late to call any meal breakfast. John Winchester and his three children took a booth in the back of the empty diner. Eight year old Sam poked at some runny eggs, wishing he had gotten the pancakes. Next to him Dean had already wolfed down the cheeseburger and was making good work on the fries. Jill stared wide eyed at the silver dollar pancakes in front of her, John was too busy mulling over the paper to notice she hadn't eaten a bite until that moment.

"Jill, c'mon eat your pancakes. We gotta long drive to Bobby's and we aint stopping."

"I can't. They're too round." She said, picking one cold pancake off her plate and dropping it on another part of the plate.

"For christs sakes- -" John's voice became stern. "We don't have time for this crap, now eat your damn pancakes."

"but, they're too round." She whined barely above a whisper.

Dean, sensing his father's temper running short, grabbed Jill's plate and cut the little circles into little triangles. "There, now they're not too round."

Jill smiled wide and stacked three triangles onto her fork gleefully shoving them into her mouth. John laughed and gave Dean an approving smile, while patting Jill on the head. He needed to learn to be patient. It had only been a week and she had gone through so much. Looking back, he was amazed how quickly she was adjusting. Dean was so good with her and Sam seemed to like not being the 'little one'. He and Mary always wanted a girl, had things been different, they would have definitely tried for one.

His eyes were drawn to the small tattoos on Jill's wrists. He still had no idea what the marks meant or what they were doing to her Had ever suspected something like this would have happened, he would have never left the hospital without her. It just cemented the idea in his mind that the safest place for his children was with him, where he could protect them. It was a mistake he swore he wouldn't make twice. He just hoped Bobby Singer would have the answers he was looking for.

"What a lovely family you have." A man approached John and the children. He was wearing a "KOREAN WAR" hat with an EGA pin. Burn scars covered the bottom third of his face.

"Thank you," said John with some trepidation.

"Listen, I know you're with your kids, but I was hoping you could help a fellow devil dog out. My car needs a jump and the guys aren't in the shop on Sundays." The man asked. "I'll pay for your meal for the trouble."

John looked down at his USMC shirt briefly, and sighed. It shouldn't take too long and he was low on cash, two kids was expensive enough, but now he had to feed and clothe three. Jill, tugged vehemently on his shirt. "No, dad, don't!" She whispered in terror. "Look at him, he's a monster." She whispered into her father's ear.

"Jill enough, that isn't nice. The man is a war hero. Dean, keep an eye on your brother and sister. I'll be back in a few minutes."

In the booth Jill sat swinging her legs anxiously, and fidgeted with her fingers. She looked out the window every few seconds, her expression looking more pained each time.

"Dean! Dad's in trouble. A monster's got him!" She finally exclaimed.

Sam dropped his fork and looked to Dean. "Really?"

"No, Dad's fine. That man wasn't a monster, Jill. He just had burn scars, he was in a fire, like you."

"No it wasn't his mouth Dean, his eyes. Didn't you see? " She jumped up from her seat and bolted out the door.

The old vet's car was a few hundred feet from the diner, but the view was blocked by some bushes and the old mechanic shop. The 57' Chevelle was a little beat up, but nothing a little care and polish couldn't fix. The two men stood in front of their two classics admiring them admits the hum of their engines.

They started talking about the Corps, then the war, then to cars. Fifteen minutes passed quickly.

"That should be enough to get you going." John said removing the jumper cables. "I really gotta get back to my kids."

"What's the hurry, John?"

The blow from the tire iron took all the air out of his lungs, bringing John Winchester to his knees. He barely dodged the second attack and took out his assailant's legs. The two wrestled in the gravely dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust. Despite having the body of a frail old man, the thing was strong, stronger than John. It got on top of him and had its hands wrapped around his throat. John kicked and clawed at the demon, trying to pry it off of him. Out of the blue it jerked back and then lurched forward. Bright red blood spurted from its mouth. A black cloud of smoke followed leaving a dying old man writhing in the dirt, a startled John Winchester and a shaken little girl, holding a bloody Ka-Bar.

"I told you he was a monster, daddy." Jill's lip quivered and John kissed her forehead as she fell to pieces in his arms. "It was his eyes, daddy. Didn't you see his eyes?" She sobbed.

They cleaned up the mess as a family. John took the cash from the man's wallet to pay for their not quite breakfast, not quite lunch.

October 2006

After awhile all diners start to look exactly the same, but Sam could have sworn he was in this one before. He tapped the menu against the table, he already knew what he wanted, but it was better than looking John in the eye.

"I wanted to apologize to you, Sam."

Sam peered over the menu to make sure the man sitting across from him was still his father, it was. The whole car ride to the diner he was preparing his defense, a logical argument backed up with facts and details. He practiced how this was going to go down in his head, none of the scenarios included John just up and apologizing. He set it down to allow his old man say his peace, still not one hundred percent sure it wasn't a trap.

"Dad, no I should have –"

John's hands grazed over his breast pocket as if the words he wanted to say could be found in there. "I was pissed, real pissed and it took me awhile to realize who I was really pissed at," he sighed. "I caused this, I thought I was keeping her safe. I should have told you the truth when she ran away, maybe if you had known… " he trailed lost in a world of what ifs

.

"If I had known what?" Sam asked.

"What do you know about Jill, about where she came from?"

"Well, um I know her mother was a witch. I knew she's got some sort of psychic ability thing. She could see demons and monsters for what they really were."

"She's not human, Sam, not fully. Her mother was host to a demon the whole time Jill was inside her. She has some of my blood, but much of it had been drained out, replaced." John paused for Sam to catch up. "It was a ritual to make a tool, a weapon, called a conduit. I didn't know until after I brought her in. Once I found out I should have just destroyed her, but she was just a kid, she had a human soul and no idea what she was capable of. I couldn't do it."

"You couldn't kill your daughter, that doesn't make you a monster, dad. Jill wasn't evil." Sam had not yet comprehended exactly what his father was saying.

"She wasn't, but she was designed to be a tool for evil. I thought if I trained her, brought her up a hunter, she could defend herself. Bobby found a way to keep her power latent, hidden away. It worked for awhile, but eventually it worked less and less. The night she ran away, she had gotten upset at something and blew out all the windows in the house we were squatting in, took out nearly half the block's electricity too. She didn't mean to it was just a reaction, but it scared me. I lost my cool, tried to put the fear I had of her into her so she would stay hidden. I told her she was a freak, a monster and if she didn't stay in line, I'd kill her like all of the other monsters. It was the last thing I ever said to my little girl." His eyes filled with tears, but only one fell before he composed himself.

Sam had questions, lots of them. None of this should have made sense, but somehow it did. His sister an inhuman product of evil. It was a revelation that should have floored him, sending his world into a tailspin, but instead it was like getting hit in the face with a cosmic pie. He laughed at the futility of it all. Both of them tried so desperately to be normal and he thought she had won. No Winchester was ever going to be that lucky.

"Well, we know where she is now. We can go get her. Get the Winchester freak show back on the road." Sam said rather chipper, hoping to lighten his father's mood.

"Not quite." He slid the worn glossy brochure across the table. Devonshire University, Archeology Program. Eighteen months ago, Jill thrust it in his face after getting it from someone at the Community College. The program offered study abroad and was geared to those with an 'alternative education'. She applied that night and received her acceptance with a full scholarship a month later.

"It doesn't exist, Sam. Website is down, address is just empty farmland somewhere in Upstate New York." John tapped an accusing finger on top of the brochure. "Did you look into this place at all before you sent her off?"

"Of course I did. I'm not an idiot. We took a virtual tour, I spoke to the admissions counselor. Dad, it seemed legit."

"If you had did just an ounce of research you would have known it was a load of crap."

"I thought it was okay!" Sam cried. "I was happy for her. I didn't want to smash her hopes. It had everything she wanted."

"That should have been your first clue!" John yelled loud enough to disrupt the few of the people that had trickled into the diner for breakfast. He waited for the chatter to pick back up again. "Look, what's done is done. If you're sister is still alive, she is in trouble and we need to help her. I just have one question. Why archeology?"

"She liked history, but wanted adventure she wanted to be like Indiana Jones," replied Sam.

John shook his head. "That's my girl. Hurry up and finish your breakfast we got work to do."


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

It was pissing out. Like god went on a hell of a bender and woke up two days later spraying an angry, unrelenting rain of regret and Jack Daniels on a defenseless world. John Winchester wiped the fog off the windshield of the stolen van, but it didn't help with visibility this far out in the sticks.

"You picked a hell of a night to do this, John." Bobby Singer remarked taking a swig from his flask. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

The question was rhetorical, of course John wanted to go through with this half cocked, suicidal plan, he would have been more concerned if John expressed doubts. They drove up to a private road and pulled over.

Bobby checked his watch it was 10:28. "Rufus said the power is set to shut down at 10:30."

They watched the twinkling lights of the large estate go dark.

"Showtime," John sighed as he shifted the van into gear.

The place was almost a half mile up the narrow twisting road that was nestled neatly between jagged rocks and steep cliffs that dropped off into blackness. They stopped at the tall black iron gates. Two men, armed with MP5s and clad in matching black rain ponchos approached the van with caution.

"Christ, John. What have we gotten ourselves into?" Bobby muttered, making a mental note to never agree to go with John Winchester when asked to accompany him on a 'little side trip'.

"Hush, I got this." John rolled down the window for the two security guards. "We're with Hudson Power," he handed them a clipboard with forged credentials. "Power surge, blew a transformer on your property."

"The power went out like four minutes ago." The shorter guard scoffed, shining his maglight onto Bobby.

John shrugged. "Listen, we were just done working a job down the road, a call on the radio came over to come turn your damn lights on. This is the last thing in between me and a nice dry bed. "

The face of the taller guard softened. "We got a backup supply, but it doesn't seem to be kicking in."

"We're completely black right now, not even the radios are working right now. We can't have unknowns just wandering the property. Franklyn said he made a call to the service company, they'll be up in an hour." The shorter guard handed John the clipboard back. Damn, he silently cursed. They were too close to get turned away here.

"Where'd you serve?" He asked the stocky and incredulous security guard, flashing his USMC tattoo.

"Fallujah, first and eighth, you?"

"Dewey Canyon, first and nine"

"Really?"

John nodded and the young man lowered, his head, battling with his better judgment.

"Well, it could take the service company hours to get up here in this rain. Better just let them fix it. Mr. Preston wouldn't be happy if he found out the power out for this long.." He waved them through.

Sometimes too much security can be a weakness. With the power out, John and Bobby were easily able to slip inside the massive main house undetected through a service door by the kitchens. They stripped off their blue coveralls, black security uniforms, very similar to the ones worn by the two guards out front. John tossed an MP5 to Bobby.

"How much did these cost?" Bobby questioned.

"Not as much as you'd think. They're fake." John replied.

Bobby's nostrils flared. "Are you serious?" He paused to gain control his voice. "Going in unarmed against this dudes personal army?"

"Don't worry," John assured and took two pistols out of the bag. "Hopefully…it won't have to come to that."

"Wait John, we're not getting some stupid book or relic are we?"

John didn't answer, just disappeared into the darkness and all Bobby could do was follow.

They cleared all the rooms on the first floor managing to not be noticed by the staff who took the blackout as an excuse to end their night early. If John's contact was worth his salt, he knew exactly where he was going. A conversation about a crazed ex girlfriend named Becky distracted two guards coming down the main staircase enough to not give the two intruders a second look.

The door was the only one guarded by four men. For John was laughable how easy it was to separate and incapacitate them. For Bobby, the undertaking was the birth of an ulcer. John opened the French doors into the room that was bathed in a soft glow LED lights and monitors running on their batteries. The sound of rhythmic beeping was enough to make John cry. That was his little girl's heart beat. She was alive.

The girl was dwarfed by the large four post bed, she looked like a sickly porcelain doll laid under the sheets, feeding tube in her nose. Her head was shaved and bared scars and stitching. The sight sickened John so much, part of him wished who was lying before him wasn't his daughter. But it was undeniably her. It took all of him to pull it together in that moment.

Bobby stood at the foot of the bed his hand over his mouth blocking the lost words that were stolen by shock.

"Well are you gonna help me?" John cried ripping off the wires and tubes.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" Bobby protested, but John wasn't listening.

The rest went too quickly for any of them to have fully grasped how they managed to get out of the house. Nobody even noticed, no alarm had sounded yet they managed to get to the van. It was a textbook extraction and not a single shot was fired.

The sky was a dark purple as the sun was pushing the night away. Bobby still had no words, he knew his anger was unfounded, but he still felt burned. It was a nine hour drive to the safe house, they made it in seven. John cradled an unconscious Jill in his arms, every once in a while she'd stir and moan, but he was unable to rouse her.

The tiny farmhouse was owned by the bank, but had been forgotten about for years. A few hunters have used it from time to time, John trusted it enough to bring Jill back there. A woman met them as they pulled into the driveway. Muriel Anther, was once a nurse before she became a hunter.

She and John took Jill inside, leaving Bobby alone in the van. He gripped the steering wheel and contemplated speeding away from this sideshow, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Upstairs John paced outside a closed door as Muriel did her best to make sure Jill was stable. If she was a car he could fix her no problem, all of his knowledge was on killing things or fixing cars. In this moment he felt so useless as a man and a father.

Despite the anger, Bobby placed a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder. "Christ John, why didn't you tell me that's what we were doing?"

"Because you would have told me I was mad, that it was a suicide mission."

"You're damn right ya idjit." Bobbie responded. "How the hell did you even find her?"

"I had been looking for months, but about a few weeks ago I finally got a break."

"Do you have any idea what they were doing to her?"

John shrugged and ran his hands over his head in frustration.. His imagination was dark enough, but too many times he encountered things more horrifying than he could have ever dreamed up. He didn't want to think about what was done to her.

"Well, we got her now. We'll figure it out, but you aren't gonna be any use to her unless you get some sleep." Bobby wanted to get some sleep himself and maybe a hot shower.

Muriel came out of the bedroom with some blood stained towels and a bowl of red-pink water. The sight ripped the color from John's face.

"Relax, she's a tough cookie, John. Her vitals are good, she's resting comfortably. She was heavily drugged, so I think we just need to let her sleep it off. You should get some sleep too." She winked at Bobby.

John made his way into the bedroom and pulled an arm chair next to the bed. His daughters thin, frail fingers softly gripped his hand when he took it. Whatever strength he was relying on to hold himself together failed him. "I'm so sorry." He sobbed softly. "I'll never let you get away again, I promise."

John had slept in holes dug in rocky soil, on park benches and under trees, the arm chair ranked 8th in the most uncomfortable place he had ever slept. Still it was a sound sleep, until it was interrupted by a crash of glass and a shrill scream.

In the adjacent bathroom, Jill stood in front of the shattered mirror, having thrown the soap dish at it. John swept the hysterical girl in his arms and held her as she unleashed her fury in hoarse, heavy, broken cries.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm here baby girl. Daddy is here." He cooed rocking her gently.

Her eyes fluttered and struggled to recognize her surroundings. She fought him, but didn't have the strength to break his grip. She arched her head back and let out a pained wail. He slapped her face gently trying to get her to focus and calm.

"What's wrong?" Muriel came in and filled a syringe with a vial she had in her pocket.

"I don't know. She just lost it." John struggled to keep the girl still while Muriel administered the injection. Within minutes she calmed.

"Daddy?" She squeaked, her violet eyes fixed on his face.

"Yeah, baby." John smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

"I like this dream," she said while a shaky hand found his face. "You don't usually smile in my dreams."

"It's not a dream. We got you back."

Her smile twisted to panic. "No," she shot up. "I can't…It's…It's so heavy." She crouched down on the wood floor hugging the wall. "I feel everything."

"It's okay, Jillybean. You're safe now. Muriel is gonna help you feel better. What hurts, baby?" John reached out for her, but she shirked away from his touch.

"I don't want to be here, Daddy I want to go somewhere else. There is a place in France 1837, there is a house on a lake and they have the best bread. Let's go there, right now." She reached out and pulled at his hands. "Or, there is a beach in Costa Rica, no humans have ever touched it because they don't exist yet. It's great, you'd love it. Let's go there, anywhere really, but now….we must leave now."

"Jill," John's voice got stern. "You are here now, we need you to be here."

"I've done…things." She looked up, eyes filled with guilty tears.

"Jill, It doesn't matter. It's over now. You won't have to do it ever again. I promise." His voice cracked.

Her body language changed and she relaxed as if she understood. "Oh, Daddy." She hugged him. "You're lying."

John went to wipe away her tears, but noticed a viscous black liquid trickling down her nose. He recoiled. "What the- "

Jill fell back into his arms, body wrought with convulsions. Black goo pouring from her nose and mouth.

"Muriel!" He yelled. "What's happening?"

Muriel, despite her medical and occult training had no idea what was happening or where to begin to treat it. She grabbed at some vials of medicine she had on the nightstand but the click of an MP5 prevented her from acting any further.

The house was surrounded and there was a team of six armed men in the small farmhouse bedroom.

"John Winchester," the well dressed man greeted the panicked father as he entered the room. "You have something of mine. I'd like it back."

John gripped Jill tighter. "You are not taking her," he growled.

The man let out a loud bored sigh. "No John, please don't do this. It's beneath you. I respect you as a hunter and a reasonable man."

"Who are you?" Barked John, still plotting a way out of this mess.

"Relax, I'm like you John. We both want the same thing." He flicked some dirt from under his finger nail.

"I think it's a little obvious that we don't" said John gesturing towards the guns.

"Big picture, John. Think big, picture. You must know what you hold in your hands."

John looked at Jill, she was fading fast. "MY daughter" he hissed.

"She's a conduit, one of the last. She is invaluable to us, our work."

"What work is that?"

"Saving the world," the man replied. "You think that all the things you've been after these years are just your run of the mill demon activity? That what happened to your family wasn't part of a much bigger plan? The Winchesters have been chosen my friend and every Winchester has their own part to play."

"I won't let you take her!" John hugged his daughter like a frightened child would a teddy bear.

"Look at her, John," he yelled. "She is dying. Without me she dies. It's a failsafe to make sure she doesn't get into the wrong hands."

He sat down next to John. "She is vital to our mission to stop a demon named Lilith bringing hell on Earth. As her daughter she has a connection to her that can help bring her down. It's for the good of mankind."

"So you did this to her? Torture a young girl for the greater good?" John scoffed.

"The drugs make it so the process affects her as little as possible. Trust me, if any other party had reached her before us, they wouldn't have been so thoughtful. There would be nothing left of your daughter's soul. That's why you need to hand her over to us. She is safest in our compound."

"Like hell she is!" John objected. Two old timers managed to get her. If she is as valuable as you say, whoever is after her isn't going to attempt to go at you with more?"

"My patience is wearing thin. You don't really have a choice. I'm going to take her. What you do have a choice in, is whether you and your friends live to keep fighting the good fight." His voice was sympathetic. "It isn't your fault. This was her destiny from birth. We are grateful that you kept her out of the wrong hands for this long. You're a good father. It's why we chose to allow you to be her guardian. She needs the antidote soon, or she is going to die. Give her to me now and she lives, so do your friends."

He could feel his daughter's life fade away, handing her over to this stranger wasn't as hard as it should have been. He kissed her and made a silent promise to get her back.

One of the guards left with an unconscious Jill in his arms.

"You did the right thing, John. I know how hard this was for you. We are sorry."

The man and his small army disappeared from the compound in minutes, but John sat on the bed for a few hours, staring out the window, until Bobby coaxed him back into the van.

Dean peaked out the blinds of the Pine Valley Motel room. It was sixteen hours passed the time his father instructed he and Sam to meet up with him. There was no details, just get a room at the motel and wait for his instructions. It wasn't unusual for his father to get held up, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Sam was doing research on the job that they had abandoned to come here, hoping they could go back to it when this was done. His visions were getting stronger and if he didn't solve this job, he was afraid it would drive him insane.

"Do you think this has something to do with Yellow Eyes?" Sam asked, peering up from his laptop screen.

"Probably," Dean guessed. "He's been super weird after that close call with that truck, maybe he hit his head too hard."

*Knock,

knock,

knock*

Someone was pounding on the door. Dean answered it, but John nearly bowled him over pushing past him. He didn't utter a word, just fumbled with the memory box he left with the boys. He clumsily rummaged through the photos, picking certain ones out and throwing them in the small trash pail by the desk.

"Is he drunk?" Mouthed Sam.

Dean just shrugged and the two watched in silent awe as their father tore at parts of his journal, and added them to the trash pile. He thrashed around in his jacket for the pocket sized bottle of bourbon and took another drink, pouring the last little drops into the pail before setting fire to it.

The brothers stood by their father as the memories of Jill bubbled and burned in the flames. Nobody said a word that night, they all quietly mourned the loss of a beloved Winchester.


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

_October 2008_

The rain had just started to fall as the 1967 black Impala sped down the winding country road. Each drop cutting through the silence. Dean Winchester shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat and turned on the radio, but Jimmy Page's guitar did little to mask the tension inside the car.

"You could have let me finish him." Sam whined as if he was finishing an argument that started in his head.

Dean kept his gaze straight on the road. "I'm not getting into this with you, Sam."

"I could have saved that man." Sam protested, "but.."

"But nothing, that demon mojo you got is bad news. I thought we agreed to that. Look, we've got a long drive and I'm not going into this with you." Dean shut down the argument.

The two brothers receded back into uneasy silence as the torrential rain continued to unleash its fury on the road.

Dean's white knuckles cracked on the steering wheel. What happened to that dentist in South Bend was his own fault. He should have never let a civilian get that close to the thing. Still, Sam's eagerness to use his newfound power made him uneasy. Their father would have never let Sam get this far with this nonsense, Dean felt like he was failing both of them right now.

He was looking forward to Florida, it has been a while since any news of Lilith or the seals, demon activity all together had been slow, save the dentist in South Bend. Both brothers needed a rest, and Dean was unsure when the chance would come again. It was going to be as many days of sun, bikini clad women and beaches as he could stomach.

_**Vbrrrrr…DEE-DE –DOO-DOo-DE-DE-DOO-DO-DEE-DEE-DOO-DOO…vbirrr**_

The cell phone rang from inside the glove compartment.

_**Vbrrrrr…DEE-DE –DOO-DOo-DE-DE-DOO-DO-DEE-DEE-DOO-DOO…vbirrr**_

It rang again before Sam retrieved it.

"It's dad's…" He gazed up at his big brother for permission to answer it, a little mystified on who it could be. John Winchester had been dead long enough for most hunters to know. It had only rang twice times since Dean's ascent from hell, and both of the calls had been telemarketers.

Dean ripped the phone out of Sam's hands.

"Hello?"

"….John?" A man's voice came over the static "...John, it's Dennis"

"Hello!" Dean yelled into the phone.

"…look…this line isn't secure…couldn't risk waiting…"

"Who is this?" Dean demanded.

"…we got her…taking… to…Bobby's…."

"You're taking who to Bobby's? Listen pal, I can't-" The phone cut out before Dean could finish, and he threw it against the dash.

"Well, who was it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know."Dean answered, still a little stunned, sunk down into the seat.

"What did they want?"

"I don't know!" Dean snapped."We've got to go to Bobby's."

"Are you sure?" Sam hit redial on the phone for a second, but the number was blocked. "This seems suspicious. What if it's a trap."

"I know it is, but it's Bobby." He threw the car into drive, made a u-turn and floored it in the direction of Bobby Singer's house.

It was late Tuesday morning when the Winchester brothers pulled up to Bobby Singer's Salvage Yard. Neither Sam nor Dean had slept or eaten much, but Bobby wasn't picking up his phone, sending the boys on edge.

After doing a quick search of the perimeter, Dean kicked in Bobby's front door.

"Bobby, it's Dean, we're coming in!" He shouted entering the foyer shot-gun barrel first. The house was dark, and dusty, but not more than usual. He cleared the stairs, the hallway while he made his way into the living room.

"Bobby, it's Dean!" He shouted again. "You okay, Bobby?"

Bobby Singer's house was a tactical nightmare, the piles of books strewn about could hide almost anyone…or anything. Dean tried to keep his cool, a jumpy trigger finger and he could easily end up shooting Bobby, or even Sam who was entering through the backdoor.

"Dean-machine?" A soft voice that sounded like a cracked crystal bell startled a vigilant Dean, who recognized the voice immediately.

It reached a bone white hand towards him. If she hadn't touched him, Dean would have bet good money on her being a ghost. It was wearing a soft pink cotton nightgown that was about six sizes too big. Its violet eyes pierced through dark sunken sockets. Standing at 5'4'' it was too small to be physically intimidating, but Dean was paralyzed at the site of the thing.

"What the hell are you?" Dean's voice barely cracked above a trembling whisper.

It reached out for him and took a step forward. Dean cocked the shotgun, stopping it in its tracks.

"Dean…Dean Machine, it's me. Jilly-bean."

"Hate to break it to ya pal, but Jill Winchester is dead." He fired off a loud blast of rocksalt.

The rocksalt peppered the plaster wall, but Dean had missed his target.

"Dean!" It cried, "It's me!"

It's words tore right through him, but he swallowed the pain and reloaded. Jill was dead, whatever this was, wasn't Jill. He hesitated until a trickle of thick black liquid poured from its left nostril. It fell to the ground and started convulsing.

"Dean!" Sam called out as he entered the living room. "I heard shots, are you okay?"

"I will be." Dean said looking down the barrel of the shot gun and aimed at his target.

"What the hell are you two idjits doin?" Bobby burst into the room, getting in between Dean and his target.

"Bobby, that's not Jill!" Dean yelled.

"What's not Jill?...Wait, Jill, Jill? Our Jill? Jilly-bean? That's Jilly-bean?" Sam pointed

"NO!" Yelled Dean

"YES!" Yelled Bobby, over Dean.

"Wait, what?" Dean did a double take. "Jill's dead."

"Where the hell did you get that idea?" Bobby struggled to pick up the girl, convulsing on the floor. "Give me a hand with her."

Sam helped move her to the tattered couch. She was shaking, and the thick black liquid coming from her nose went from a trickle to a steady stream. Bobby wiped it away with a towel, and brought a bowl over, encouraging her to cough up the rest.

"There we go darlin, get it up." He took a separate cloth and wiped her brow. "That's it, just let it out."

"I heard gunshots, is everything alright?" Ellen Harvell pushed her way to the girl, taking no notice of Sam and Dean.

"Hi Ellen," Dean coughed, then gave a coy wave.

"What are you doing here?" Ellen huffed.

"Someone named Dennis called Dad's cell." Dean exclaimed, his lack of patience coming through in his tone. "Now can someone please explain what's going on."

"Goddamned Dennis, he's thicker than-" Bobby complained.

Ellen and Bobby exchanged glances, "I'll go put on a pot of coffee," Ellen sighed.

"You better make it a pot of whiskey," Bobby retorted. "They're gonna need it."

"Why didn't anyone tell us she was alive?" Sam asked.

"Hell, up until two days ago we had no reason to believe that she was." Bobby said stroking his beard.

"The human body isn't meant to take all of that…activity, it usually gives out. Infact we were shocked she was still alive the first time we found her."

"Hold it," Dean put his hand up as he tried to hold his liqour. "The first time?"

Ellen put her hand down, to reassure Bobby. The truth had been hidden from them for so long, it well past time they knew.

"A few months before he died, your father tracked her to a man named Codrick. It took some doing, but he got her out of there. They didn't get to far before she started to take a turn for the worst, seizures and coughing up blood. Codrick had been poisoning her with some crap, if she went too long without it, she'd die. It was his failsafe. The humane thing would have been to kill the poor girl, but John couldn't bring himself to do it, so he brought her back. It killed him, infact I don't think I ever saw him the same since then." Bobby left out some of the details, they didn't need to know everything and the truth was, he knew they wouldn't want to know everything. He sure as hell wished he hadn't known.

"So you brought her here to die?" Dean slammed the empty glass on the table.

"No, I found a cure, a detox. It's not perfect, but it seems to be working." Bobby arched his neck to check on Jill who was still asleep on the couch in the next room.

"She isn't out of the woods yet, this cure is experimental. I don't know if it will work or not. We have no idea what side effects of her years in there had on her, and there is no doubt that Codrick will be looking for her."

"Well isn't that just the icing on the cake." Dean said as he stormed away from the table.

This was too much, it was too weird, even for them. Sam was going all OFP, Dean himself didn't know why angels pulled him out of hell and now this. He watched a sleeping Jill and tried to recognize the little girl in the woman before him. She was pale and scarred. Her skin looked like it would break if he touched it. He was still getting used to her looking so different, with the scars over a shaved head, she had an almost alien quality to her, but if he looked at her face, he saw the Jilly-bean he knew and loved. Even if she recovered from this, how was she going to be able to be on the run in this condition? With her ability, no doubt both heaven and hell would want their hands on it, or at the very least out of the hands of their enemies. He wished he could keep her sleeping, locked away from the end of the world and divine destinies, if not that, then he hoped she'd drift off into eternal peace, but he knew that was impossible.

Amidst his wishful thinking, Jill's brow furrowed and her nose scrunched as she started to toss and turn. Her forehead was burning hot to the touch. Dean grabbed the damp towel and wiped the sweat from her face, quietly humming the tune to "Wild Horses" the way he did when she was small.

"Don't worry Jilly-bean, you're home now. You're safe now." The lie was more for his comfort than for hers, but it was the only thing he had to hold on to at the moment.


End file.
